Creepy - NASA Is Trying to Kill Me

Episode Date: September 2, 2020

No one can hear you scream...***Written by Boy With A Loaf of Bread and narrated by Nate Dufort***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is the bloody disgusting podcast network. No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories make me. graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy presents. NASA is trying to kill me. Written by Boy with a loaf of bread and narrated by Nate DuFort. My name is Dr. Adrian Reinhart and I'm the last surviving member of the Kronos Project Team under the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.

You've never heard about me or the project, because for all intents and purposes, we do not exist. But I'll be damned if NASA is going to let my colleagues' deaths be for nothing more than a classified folder collecting dust on a shelf. I know you probably won't believe me. I wouldn't if I were you. but I'm not asking you to believe me. I'm just asking you to listen.

The Kronos project was secretly established in 1988 by NASA and headed by the Department of Defense. The goal was to use deep-range satellites and telescopes to search the far regions of space for signs of life beyond our solar system. What we found was something far worse. In 2004, a signal was detected from the Buotis void, which is a vast span of nothingness in space, nearly a billion light years in diameter.

And when I say there is nothing, I really mean nothing. The void contains absolutely no matter, or even dark matter. It's essentially a definitive null zone in the universe, devoid of anything, all except for a single, continuous signal. I remember it like it was yesterday. My colleagues and I were sitting in a room that can best be described as a discount version of the mission control facility in Houston. We were all there at our desks going over sheets of useless data from other reconnaissance scans until the detection alarm started to go off, signifying that a signal had been detected from deep space.

When we started going over the data, we triangulated the signal source to write ascension 14 hours, 50 minutes, zero seconds, DEC plus 46 degrees, zero arc minutes, zero arc seconds. For those not versed in stellar coordinates, it pointed right smack dab in the middle of the void. given the vast empty region of space, we at first had thought it was a system malfunction. But when we restarted it, it began immediately reporting a signal coming from those coordinates once again. We'd originally thought we were just picking up fragments of a supernova or stellar burst of a long dead star that had once been in that section of space. but that hypothesis was quickly uprooted when we were able to filter through the background data and convert it into an audio format.

It wasn't one long wave of static that you would normally detect from such cosmic events. It was a continuation rhythmic series of beeps that sounded eerily like a heartbeat. Now, of course, we were miles away from actually confirming or denying that this was the work of some advanced alien civilization hiding away in the empty regions of space. But we were still absolutely ecstatic over the finding.

I don't remember seeing a single one of the faces in there, not smiling from ear to ear, while that beating, pulsing signal repeated itself over and over again through the speakers of the control center. Following our little eureka moment, we followed the proper procedures and contacted our administration, administrators and awaited further instructions as we aimed every satellite and listening device we had at our disposal at those coordinates.

I remember feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve as I was driving home that night, so impossibly eager to see what the next day would bring. Unfortunately, the days would roll into months, then into years, until the next chapter of the ongoing cosmic heartbeat signal would present at the same. itself. On August 24, 2009, we were given the go-ahead by the Obama administration to send a reply signal into the same region of the void that the signal was coming from. Although this was mainly done as a ceremonial milestone, given the fact that the region of space was nearly 700 million light years away, it would be at least 140 million years for reply to our message to even reach us.

Given that the message was still a continuous repetition of two beats per second, we decided to use a similar frequency using a Morse code translation of hello. Translation. We popped some champagne and enjoyed the event, as much as anyone could in a top secret research facility under a shadow section of the United States government. That night, at around 3 a.m., I received a call from Dr. Westcott, the signal. I'll never forget how disappointed and yet terrified his voice was over the phone. The signal, he said, it just stopped. For years, that seemed to be the end of our little

interstellar communications. But we still carried on with our research, always keeping at least one monitoring device locked on the targeted coordinates of the void. We had a few detected bursts of information that peaked out interest at the time from other regions of space, but nothing like the heartbeat signal. I wish I could tell you that's where the story ends. I wish I could say that rather than typing this out as the last few hours of my life ticked away, that I was back in the facility searching the stars. But these are the wishful thoughts of a man at the end of his rope.

It's at this time I've come to the realization that there are no happy endings Eight months ago while going through a routine series of scans we received yet another transmission from the Boati's void One I'm still trying to come to terms with

Not because it began again But Because it defied the very laws of physics This was the message translated in Morse code Goodbye It was a reply To the message we sent

Nearly 11 years ago Somehow a communication That should have transpired Over a course of 140 million years Took place in just 11 It didn't make any sense It still doesn't None of what was happening

Made any logical sense And that wasn't even the ridiculous part As soon as the transmission was received and translated, the empty space around the center of the void began to expand as the surrounding star system seemed to just blink out of existence. One by one, like a series of light bulbs being turned off, the stars began to go out. It was almost as if we were watching it occur in real time, which was another astronomical impossible. You see, we can only observe as fast as light travels, which means if we were watching the Boati's void, that is 700 million light years away. We would be seeing it as if it was 700 million years ago. But now, we were watching an event unfold that was absolutely cosmically

impossible. The rate at which the stars were vanishing was expanding the void at a rate of nearly five million light years a minute. I don't know how to describe it, other than saying that the dark nothingness was growing faster than the speed of light itself, seemingly consuming and extinguishing everything in its path. All the while, that message just kept ringing throughout the room. I don't know how or why,

but very quickly the implications of this flooded over the control center as my colleagues and I began to realize the gravity of this impossible event. There was no argument amongst us, whether this was possible or not. It clearly wasn't, yet it was happening all the same. At this rate, it will reach the solar system in a little under a year. Dr. Waterford sounded weak and hoarse, he exclaimed the obvious. We were all thinking the same thing. In a little under 360 days,

this cosmic expanse would reach our very own star system. We, of course, didn't know what would happen when it did, but in astronomy, you always think of the worst. If the sun was somehow extinguished by the void, as all the surrounding stars were, it would take a little under a year for the Earth to become an uninhabitable wasteland. That was, of course, even if the planet wasn't completely consumed and absorbed in nothingness as well.

The entire time I ran the calculations and possible scenarios in my head, the message we received kept popping up again and again, seemingly trying to answer the question as to what was going to happen. Goodbye. It seemed to hit Dr. Redmond first as he leapt to his feet and made for a dashing sprint to the exit. soon everyone began to follow. Under normal circumstances, you think that the man's cheese had finally slid off his metaphorical cracker, but given the current situation, given what we were witnessing,

he may have been the most sensible one in the entire room. Then, just as a few others were making their way toward the exit, it suddenly dawned on me as well. The message. It must have been telling us, and everything else in its path goodbye. Whatever was in the Boati's void was coming for us, coming for everything.

At the time, we really weren't thinking of the consequences of our actions. We weren't focused on the repercussions of suddenly jumping ship and going AWOL from a top-secret government program. The only thing racing in our mind was the sweeping wall of nothingness, hurtling towards us faster than the speed of light. I went straight home and drowned myself in a bottle, hoping to wake up the next morning to realize everything was just some crazy dream. I wouldn't be so lucky, of course.

In truth, I'd come to find that out very quickly. That night at about 1 a.m., I was awoken to my phone. When I went to check the unknown caller, it turned out to be one of my colleagues, Dr. Maverick Bircham, who was one of the last men to even leave the facility that day. You've got to run, Adrian, he yelled trying to catch his breath. I'd wondered at the time what had caused him such physical exertion. What are you talking about?

I asked as my head pounded with a throbbing migraine. They're scrubbing the project, cleaning house. Don't you know what that means? The first sentence was all I needed to sober up. If what he said was true, then word had gotten up the chain of command and they had now come to the knowledge about both the discovery and its implications, as well as the science team's reaction to set implications. If they were scrubbing the project, then we'd be the first to be cleaned up.

How do you know about this? I asked him. I tried to go over to McGuire's house to discuss possible outcomes about the expansion, but when I got there, his house was burning to ashes, and Cuthbert and Lathbridge won't answer their phones, and on top of all that, I think I'm being followed. Are you sure? I asked as I made my mind. way to the bedroom window searching for any sign of government hitmen. Yes, absolutely. I've driven around my block twice, and now I'm on 58 South. There's been a black, unmarked car following me

the entire way. I could almost make out what were sniffles through the speaker. Listen, you've got to get the hell out of Dodge right now, while you've still got a pot to piss in. If you're half as smart as I know you are, then you'll... Those were the last words I heard from him before the signal gave out. I didn't need much more of a warning after that. I quickly got some things together and piled into my Avalon and hit the highway. I've been on the run ever since, dodging any sign of suspicion by moving state to state, county to county, all until now. Once I post this, they'll obviously be able to trace it, and I'm going to let them. I've been running all year, and I'm tired of it, mainly because it doesn't seem to be a point to it any longer.

Within a few months, the expanse will reach us anyway. So, forgive me if I take the easy way out of this. I wish I could tell you in these final words that the governments of the world are working together to somehow try to stop this, but they know better. They know it's coming. And rather than be up front with you, they want to hide it as long as possible. It's why there's been so much shit clogging the news and media here lately. They want total blanket coverage,

so much chaos here on earth. That way, no one looks up to see the inevitable. It's coming, and there's no stopping it. So do me a favor, will you? Make what little life you have left worth it. Hold your loved ones. Go on that vacation you keep putting off.

Do what makes you happy. Live. Goodbye. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us at CreepyPod on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. or email us at creepypod at gmail.com. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wikia.com

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